


124. The boys pay a visit to the New York Citadel

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [124]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-15 22:51:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1322212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	124. The boys pay a visit to the New York Citadel

_**Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten pay a visit to the NY Citadel**_  
[takes place the day after Sam and Ryan [break in their New York flat](http://www.journalfen.net/users/sam_worthington/15467.html); will be backdated]

**warnings: boot-licking (they're already clean, Jay, I swear!), electrical play**

Sam's already hard when he steps into the room but seeing Ryan there, naked and waiting on his knees for him, has his jeans tightening to the point of discomfort. Christ. "You waiting for me, boy?"

Ryan swallows hard. "Yes, Sir," he whispers, his head bowed. He can only see Sam's feet from this angle, but his _boots_ , god -- Sam has actually forgone his beloved and well-worn Blundstones for once. Instead shiny black leather peeks from beneath Sam's jeans, and Ryan's skin crawls with anticipation.

Not that it wasn't already. He's been waiting here for twenty minutes, and in the time before Sam arrived Ryan was furtively checking the place out. And it gives him chills, albeit delicious ones. The _walls_ are padded, for Christ's sake, as are the floors; Ryan doesn't even know what to make of that. The centerpiece of the room is unquestionably the huge bondage wheel, set parallel to the floor. The only other piece of furniture is a small cart, covered with a suspiciously lumpy sheet. Nothing could induce Ryan to sneak a look under that sheet, even though the suspense is near killing him. He wouldn't want to piss Sam off by spoiling his game, sure... but he also adores the surprises his lover enjoys springing on him.

"Good. Get over here," Sam orders, pulling a black leather riding crop out from behind his back and tapping the tip of one boot with it.

His eyes widening, Ryan drops to his hands and crawls to Sam's feet, then kneels up again. His heart is racing already, pounding in his chest like he's been running.

Sam smiles. Ryan looks incredible like this and that crawl? Fuck. "How do you like my boots, boy?"

A small grin tugs at the corner of Ryan's mouth, and he goes with blunt honesty. "They make me hot, Sir." He couldn't even explain why. They just... do.

"Yeah?" Sam's smile widens and he reaches between Ryan's thighs with the crop, tapping the end against his cock. "How hot?"

Ryan hisses, his body jerking. It didn't hurt, but the light tap has him on edge in an instant. "Um..." Shit. Sam wants him to _talk_? "I want you, Sir," he says softly, knowing he's stating the bloody obvious. "I want to lick them."

"Then get down there. Impress me," Sam demands, the crop behind Ryan's neck, pressing him downward. So fucking hard already he can barely breathe.

With a soft moan Ryan drops forward. He splays his hands on the floor and leans down to take a long lick of Sam's right boot, running his tongue from the toe up along the top. He pokes the tip of his tongue in around the laces, getting every little bit of the leather.

"That's it," Sam nods, watching, his chest tight with arousal. "Keep going. Get every fucking inch."

Breathing in the raw scent of the leather, Ryan nods. And he stretches out full-length on the floor, licking along the outside of Sam's foot, shining his boot with long liquid swipes.

A groan spills from Sam's lips and he licks them, touching Ryan's cheek with the end of the crop, his boy's cock and ass beyond his reach for now. Of course, he could order Ryan up onto his knees again but seeing him spread out like this is so incredibly hot. "Now the other one," he says instead, when he's happy with the job Ryan's done on the first.

Swallowing, Ryan tries to moisten his lips before moving on. He's still careful to keep his hands off, mindful that he doesn't have permission to use more than his mouth. He works his way over Sam's ankle, feeling the smooth grain under his tongue. Worshiping as if it were his lover's skin.

"Good boy," Sam praises, wondering for a moment how he's going to make his way through everything he has planned without fucking Ryan. But then again, he doesn't have to. He could fuck him again and again if he wanted. Make Ryan hold out until the very end. "You ready for more?"

"Yes, Sir," Ryan says softly. He rests his cheek briefly on the toe of Sam's boot, then kneels up once more, hands locked at the small of his back.

"On your feet then. Hands behind your head," Sam orders.

Wordlessly, Ryan pushes to his feet. And at last he finally gets a full glimpse of his lover. The tight black t-shirt outlines Sam's biceps beautifully, and the smoothness of his clean-shaven throat just makes Ryan's mouth water. He's careful not to stare too boldly, though, dropping his gaze once more as he locks his hands behind his head.

"Whatever you do," Sam says softly. "Don't break position." The end of the crop brought in against the side of Ryan's cock an instant later. And again on the other side.

Ryan cries out, then a moment later bites down. Pain shocks through him, licking with tongues of fire. And he realizes that he's in serious trouble if this is Sam's idea of a warm-up today.

"Good boy," Sam murmurs, impressed as always by the way Ryan follows orders. "You can take a seat on the wheel, stretch out," he says, motioning towards it. "Get comfy." Although comfortable is about the last thing Ryan'll stay.

Eyeing the wheel nervously, Ryan clambers up. He lies back, shifting into a spread-eagled position, arms and legs aligning with the thick wooden spokes. He's seen bondage wheels used before, but has never actually experienced one for himself. His heart is pounding with fear of the unknown, but it's belied by the hard spike of his cock.

"You look good like this," Sam says, buckling the restraints around Ryan's ankles and wrists. "So fucking hot." He grins and leans in, licking across Ryan's lips before pulling back just as quickly, one hand giving an empty spoke a shove so the whole wheel spins in a lazy circle.

The ceiling blurs and Ryan squeezes his eyes shut. He flickers his tongue over his lips, seeking a faint trace of his lover.

Bringing Ryan back to the starting point, Sam stops the wheel and pulls the sheet from the cart. There's a bowl full of wooden clothespins, a long thick black dildo with a flared base, a chain with two fierce-looking metal clamps on either end and a hand-held electric cattle prod.

The movement draws Ryan's gaze... and then his eyes nearly bug out. Large black dildo? Fine, and not unexpected. A bowl he can't see the contents of, okay. It's the menacing black stick which has his mind reeling. He hasn't seen a cattle prod in years -- and back then, he was on a farm.

Not a single thing escapes Sam's notice but he doesn't react, doesn't say a word. Simply picks out a clothespin and attaches it to a fold of skin on the front of Ryan's upper thigh.

That jerks Ryan's attention back fast. He lifts his head to look down the length of his body, then drops back. And he braces himself for more of the same.

"Know how many of these I have?" Sam says, picking up a handful of pins and placing them one after another: inner thigh, inner arm, stomach and cock.

"No, Sir," Ryan whispers. But he's sure as hell wondering, even as a delayed pulse of pain throbs through his prick. His mouth quirks up. "But I'm guessing you're not going to go easy on me."

"Not even close," Sam says, showing Ryan the bowl before he scoops up another handful, the crop tucked under his arm. "Three dozen." Slowly lining them up along Ryan's limbs and torso, the softest skin pinched tight and clamped.

"Ohjesuschrist," Ryan breathes. He exhales shallowly, trying not to flinch. It doesn't work, though, and he feels more sensitive with each new peg.

Eight left and Sam clips all but one onto Ryan's cock and balls, his own cock throbbing in sympathy.

Now Ryan is whimpering. He rocks his hips gently, reflexively, as if that will somehow ease the pain. He knows better than to ask for anything at this point. So he works to relax, letting the cushion of endorphins rise up to surround him.

Sam holds up the last clothespin in front of Ryan. Lets him think for a minute about where exactly it might go before saying, "Tongue out, boy."

Ryan's eyes widen in panic -- it's definitely not what he was expecting. And so he's a second slow in obeying, still struggling with disbelief. He's shaking slightly as he sticks out his tongue.

Sam's already fixed the tension on this one. It's not nearly as tight as the rest of the clothespins but it's tight enough and he clamps it into place right in the center of Ryan's tongue, rather enjoying the look of pure shock on his lover's face.

Ryan blinks. Hell, Ryan might even be blinking back a few tears. He's trying to adjust to the bizarre sensation of his tongue simply feeling _wrong_. His entire body, wrong, pinched and burning all over. Pinched and burning and... trembling. Yep, that's a definite tremble.

"How's that feel? Good? Good," Sam grins, running one hand up and down Ryan's chest, back and forth over the standing clothespins. "But I think you must be feeling a little empty," he says, reaching for the dildo.

Trying to swallow when his mouth is suddenly so dry, Ryan whimpers softly. And his ass clenches, tightening up for a second. Turning his head slightly, he eyes the black silicone in Sam's hand; he'd almost forgotten it was coming.

"You'd better have prepped, because I'm pretty sure that's the one thing I forgot," Sam says, the wicked look in his eye letting Ryan know it was deliberate. He spins the wheel so he's between Ryan's legs. "Look at that," he murmurs, sliding a hand between Ryan's cheeks. "Look at how nice and open you are for me." Two fingers pushing roughly into Ryan.

Ryan's cry sounds strange to his own ears, wrong again. It's a helpless sound. He arches off the supports for a moment with the pain of penetration, his entire body tight before he slowly relaxes back down.

Sam fucks Ryan for a moment longer with his fingers then pulls out, wiping them on his jeans. Lines up the dildo and twists it in deep, pressing the base almost flush with his hole.

This time Ryan tries to curse but it's only a mangled shout. He lies rigid against the wheel, struggling to get his breathing under control as his body adjusts. _Fuck_.

Cock pressed rigid and aching against the zipper of his jeans, Sam stands back and brings the crop out from under his arm again. He teases the flat end over Ryan's cock, watching it twitch and jerk against his stomach, then strikes the same end against a pin on his inner thigh, snapping it from the sensitive flesh in an instant.

Ryan bucks against his bonds with a whimper. Pain streaks through him, and suddenly all he can think about is how many clothespins are left. He can feel them, marching like tiny flames over his body, and he struggles to recall just how many Sam said there were in all.

Sam slaps off a second and then a third, concentrating on Ryan's legs, although he does alternate between those on the fronts of his thighs and calves and those on the inside, on the more tender skin. A fourth and a fifth follow and then one more. There. A half dozen. He gives the wheel a spin and slaps off three more, these from Ryan's left arm.

There isn't even time now between strikes to regroup, assess. Ryan melts into a puddle of muffled whimpers, overwhelmed and then disoriented further when the ceiling suddenly spins above him. He shuts his eyes tight, fighting off a wave of dizziness, and his body shudders with each breath.

Sam spins Ryan again, slapping off another three pins when the wheel slows, aiming for those closest to him. Chest, stomach, front of thigh. And again, this time going for hip, thigh and balls. Christ, this is fun.

There's less response now, Ryan managing to hold himself mostly still in anticipation of each tiny shock of flame. He's almost calm, except for the telltale way his breathing hitches unevenly, flares ricocheting through him.

Setting the crop down on the cart, Sam picks up the cattle prod. He's not sure how Ryan will react. There's no question it skirts the edge of safe play but that seems to suit both of them. He turns the safety switch off, holding the prod so the trigger's depressed, and spins Ryan again, touching the end to his inner thigh when he comes to a stop again. Quick touch. In and back.

And Ryan screams. His back snaps into an arch and he struggles in his bonds for a moment. _Christ_ , that hurts! But it fades just instants after Sam pulls away, leaving Ryan wide-eyed and gasping, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if his fear made him overreact.

Christ. Sam rubs his free hand over his crotch, stroking his cock through the denim, the damp patch growing beneath his palm. He spins Ryan and zaps him again, this time just an inch or so from his hole, right on the inside of his cheek.

Oh shit that's too close, it's too close... In reflex, Ryan tries to draw his limbs in and protect himself, but of course he comes up short. The aftermath of the pain reverberates like an echo in his mind and his entire body tenses up in anticipation.

Sam switches out the cattle prod for the crop again and snaps off another dozen pins in rapid succession, spinning Ryan as needed to reach his desired targets. They come off his chest, arms, thighs, balls, the first ones coming off his cock this time...

The muffled screams all melt together now. Ryan can't even keep track of which nerve endings are firing, where the pain signals are coming from... He squeezes his eyes shut tight but feels dizzy anyway, and he tries to give himself over completely. Sinking.

Crop exchanged for the prod, Sam zaps Ryan on his inner thighs again, quick touches to each side, then close to his hole.

Tears make wet tracks down Ryan's cheeks, and a shadowy corner of his mind wonders when it was that he started crying. The pain of the cattle prod's shocks is like nothing he's ever known -- a pinpoint flash of burning intensity. The touch near his hole makes his whole body clamp down, and tightening around the thick dildo sends whole new streaks of pleasure blasting through him. Confusing him.

Sam goes back to the crop and strikes off every last clothespin - the ones on Ryan's nipples, his stomach, his thighs and the two on his cock - leaving only the one on his tongue. His boy is hard, precome thickly smeared across his belly, and tears are streaking down his temples. Ryan's a mess and Sam loves it.

When the clothespegs fly off Ryan's cock, god... He howls in the aftermath, shuddering against the wheel. It's all a blur now, of fiery pain and desperate lust, but he's got too much adrenaline coursing through him to sink into a daze as he usually does. Instead he just sobs, shivering and scared of what could come next.

"One left," Sam says, spinning Ryan so his face is right there, level with his groin. He flicks the pin on Ryan's tongue with his fingers. Unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock, stroking it lazily. "Should I snap that one off too?" he asks, even though there's no way he'd do it. Would never take the chance of actually _hurting_ Ryan.

Ryan stares, his gaze drawn to Sam's naked cock like a magnet. His tongue throbs, blood pulsing around the pin, and he groans.

"Or maybe I should make you suck me off, just like this," Sam murmurs, rubbing the head of his cock over Ryan's lips and tongue, over and around the pin.

Even with his tongue pinched tight, Ryan can't help the way he immediately responds. He moans and tries to lick at Sam's cock, tries to somehow take his lover into his mouth.

Cupping the back of Ryan's head in his hand, Sam pushes deeper, into Ryan's throat, ignoring the scrape of the clothespin against his cock.

Lifting his head off the spoke, Ryan works to rub his lips along Sam's length. He gags himself again and again, struggling to not scratch Sam up with the clothespeg. _Fuck_.

"That's it," Sam urges, groaning, shoving harder into Ryan's mouth, until he's too close and has to pull back or risk coming when he still wants to fuck Ryan.

Ryan whimpers, bereft, when Sam pulls away. He stares hazily up at his lover, lips wet and shining. And his chest hitches with want.

"Christ. Look at you," Sam whispers, fingers reaching for that pin, playing with it, stroking over and around the swollen flesh of Ryan's tongue while he wraps his other hand around Ryan's cock, stroking steadily.

The sound Ryan makes now is barely human. He shoves into Sam's touch, trying to get more in an instant. His mouth is dry and his tongue hurts, and Sam's teasing around the clothespin just highlights that. But right now he can't focus on anything but the demanding drag on his cock.

"You've been a good boy, haven't you?" Sam says, stroking harder. "You deserve to come, don't you?" Fingers poised on that pin, ready to release it.

Ryan whimpers, nodding frantically. He's so damn close, clinging to the edge, and he knows in seconds he's going to come whether Sam wants him to or not. So he's praying for permission.

"Then do it," Sam orders, removing the last clothespin from Ryan's tongue. "Come for me," brutally working Ryan's cock in his hand.

His back snaps into a perfect arch, and Ryan shouts. Pleasure floods him, washing out all lingering traces of pain until there's only Sam, only his lover, his sir, completely owning him with every touch.

Sam leans in and kisses Ryan, stroking him through the aftershocks, tongue tangling with his still-swollen one as the blood returns.

Whimpering softly, Ryan struggles against his restraints, trying impossibly to get closer, wrap himself around his lover.

"I'm not done yet," Sam says softly, pulling back, the wheel slowly rotated until he's at Ryan's feet. "I still need to fuck my boy," he murmurs, moving between Ryan's thighs and grasping the base of the dildo.

With a moan Ryan squirms on the wheel, needing. His muscles clench hard and he has to force himself to relax so that he can make room for his lover.

Sam pulls the dildo free, dropping it to the floor, and spreads Ryan's cheeks with his hand, inspecting his lover's hole, the red marks left by the cattle prod on the soft skin just inches away. He rocks his hips, getting his cock lined up, the crown pressed against Ryan's hole, and pushes in, one long slow deep glide to the hilt.

Ryan groans, taking his lover in. _God yes_. He has so little freedom to move in this position but he does what he can, rocking his hips against Sam to work him a fraction deeper.

Fuck. It feels incredible. Like he's home, Sam thinks, pulling out and pushing in again. Hands sliding up Ryan's body to his chest, fingers seizing those rings and tugging hard as he thrusts into Ryan, steadily increasing his pace.

With a shudder Ryan cries out again. The demand in Sam's hands sends him reeling, his body struggling to respond out of habit. But he's got nothing left. All he can do is move with Sam, cradling his lover as best he can.

Sam drives into Ryan's core, the soft velvet heat of his lover's body making his head spin, his balls tighten, pleasure flushing through his entire frame until he can't hold on any longer and he comes, his shouts filling the room as he fills his boy, hot and thick and heavy.

A whimper is all the sound Ryan can make. He strains towards Sam again, needing to hold and be held. Cold and aching in the aftermath, with reality slowly beginning to filter back in.

Easing out, Sam strokes his hands over Ryan's chest and down the fronts of his legs. "Hold on for me," he says softly, unfastening the restraints from Ryan's ankles first before going to work on his wrists. "I'll have you free in a second."

Even once he's freed, though, Ryan just lies there. He does reach for Sam, however, fingertips brushing over the smooth skin of Sam's bicep. It's just all he can manage on his own.

"Here." Sam slides his arms around Ryan and helps him upright, hugging him close and kissing him softly. "You okay to move?" he asks. "We have the room next door."

Ryan staggers his first step, having forgotten that the floor is padded. He turns in the circle of Sam's arms and rests his head against his lover's shoulder for a long moment. And eventually he nods, letting Sam help him through the door to the connecting room.

Sam gets Ryan into bed and strips off his own clothes, grabbing a bottle of water and a straw from the mini-fridge. "Have something to drink," he orders, taking a seat on the edge, pressed close to his lover.

It's the last thing Ryan wants right now, but he knows Sam is right. He pushes himself up to his elbows and takes a few sips, then rubs his cheek against Sam's naked thigh. Shutting his eyes and simply being.

Sam sets the water within reach and then slips under the covers, gathering Ryan in his arms and pressing soft kisses to the top of his head. "I'm so proud of you," he whispers.

"Mmm." Ryan smiles, still hazy. Then he softly asks, like he still can't quite believe it, "Cattle prod?"

"I watched an in-house dom in London use one on a sub last year," Sam says, his answering smile slightly sheepish. "Before I met you -- but I thought it seemed like something you could handle."

His lips curve gently, and Ryan strokes a finger along the clean line of Sam's jaw. "Did I handle it? I don't really remember that part."

"I think you did," Sam says, kissing Ryan gently on the lips. "I think you were amazing. The whole thing definitely lived up to my fantasies."

Ryan's smile widens and he breathes Sam in. That's all he needed to know, and he lets himself drift, secure in his lover's arms.

Sam reaches up and turns off the light, trying not to disturb his lover. "I love you," he whispers, brushing a kiss across Ryan's forehead. He's pretty sure Ryan's already asleep but he doesn't care. It matters to _him_ that he says it, that he keeps his promise to always say it and never leave Ryan wondering. "So so much."  



End file.
